


liegelord

by Starfire (kalypsobean)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/Starfire
Summary: It won't be long, now, until Bruce wears the scars that Jason has learned to hide.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt _DCU, Jason Todd/Tim Drake orrrr Jason/Bruce, Someday my pain will mark you_ by oh_mcgee at [comment_fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/597812.html?thread=99502132#t99502132)

Bruce would have to know he's here; someone that hyperaware would have felt eyes on him, would be carrying just in case, would be watching for something - a glint, a shadow, a space - that would be proof.

Bruce is carrying, but it's the same as always; there's a knife under the left shirtsleeve, easy to access but not an extra weight to be accounted for. The right hand is for shaking hands, for waving, for the first punch; it needs to be unencumbered, and yet, there's always something within reach, even just a single shuriken. Bruce doesn't look around any more than he needs to; he has Wayne Security with him for show, and if he sees the shadow that Jason casts when he stands in the way of the sun, deliberately, he doesn't react. 

At night, too, Bruce acts like he's invisible, as if he's not there at all. He's there, of course; his scars hidden beneath a hood and his hands balled in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms as if such a little pain could be a distraction now. It would be easy for Bruce to reach him; a grapple gun, a few seconds, and Jason could ask him _why_. Instead, he loses Bruce in a carpark, of all things, because bad guys don't always take the lift, or the stairs.

He has a safehouse, barely more than a lean-to; it's condemned, grown over enough that the path he cleared is still invisible from the street, and he half expects Bruce to be there when he returns, shirtless and angry, just as he used to be, before Jason knew the things he knows now. It's silent, though; his tripwire is undisturbed, and nothing is out of place.

It hits him, when he strips down, that perhaps Bruce isn't looking for him. Bruce trained him; took him as a kid and turned him into this, gave him nothing else, and expected him to die.

 _Someday, you will see me,_ he says to the smiling picture of Bruce, torn from a newspaper he used for kindling and pinned to the rotting wall with a batarang, carefully filched. He will have to replace it soon, not that there is a shortage of that sort of picture of the man who made him into bait and still failed. They could all be target practice; it wouldn't be enough.

He smiles; it won't be long, now, until Bruce wears the scars that Jason has learned to hide.


End file.
